NORUMBEGA HALL.

Not on Penobscot's wooded bank the spires

Of the sought City rose, nor yet beside

The winding Charles, nor where the daily tide

Of Naumkeag's haven rises and retires,

The vision tarried; but somewhere we knew

The beautiful gates must open to our quest,

Somewhere that marvellous City of the West

Would lift its towers and palace domes in view,

And, to! at last its mystery is made known —

Its only dwellers maidens fair and young,

Its Princess such as England's Laureate sung;

And safe from capture, save by love alone,

It lends its beauty to the lake's green shore,

And Norumbega is a myth no more.